


The People in Stiles' Bed

by Madame_Flutterby



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22973884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Flutterby/pseuds/Madame_Flutterby
Summary: "It's two in the morning," Magnus answered. And because he couldn't stop himself, he continued. "And there's a man in your bed."It's not easy being Stiles' roommate, as Magnus finds out.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 432





	The People in Stiles' Bed

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in years (no, really, YEARS) and this has been sitting around on my computer for about as long, so yeah.

The first few weeks of his first semester abroad had gone by before that late evening when Magnus came back to the dorm and found a strange man asleep in Stiles' bed.

He was pretty sure that Stiles wasn't gay – at least the amount of straight porn that Stiles had on his computer suggested otherwise – but that did not explain why his bed was occupied by another guy. Magnus looked at the shirtless man (and now he knew what they meant with 'washboard abs'), then looked around the room to see if Stiles was perhaps hiding behind the door (he wasn't, but that didn't mean anything – he had done it once or twice before in the short time they had been rooming together just for shits and giggles when Magnus inevitably almost had a heart attack), and wondered for a moment if he should wake the guy up or just grab his stuff and crash at Jake's instead.

His decision was taken from him as Stiles dragged himself into the room, bleary-eyed and barely stifling a yawn. "Hey man," he waved at Magnus. "Didn't know you were back already."

"It's two in the morning," Magnus answered. And because he couldn't stop himself, he continued. "And there's a man in your bed."

Stiles' grin was tired and he waved a hand in the general direction of the bed. "That's Derek. He's crashing here for a few nights."

Magnus considered this. "I don't have any problems if you bring someone over, you know, but just keep it down, will you? And hang a sock on the door or something."

Stiles' grin disappeared and he just looked confused. "Sock? Uh, man, we're just sleeping. No need for socks anywhere."

"Whatever you say, man," Magnus replied sceptically. It wasn't really his business anyway. 

Stiles looked like he was going to protest, but the guy – Derek – opened his eyes to slits. "Stiles. Sleep. Now."

"Demanding, aren't we?" Stiles grinned. "Night, Magnus," he said before he crawled into the bed beside Derek and turned off the lamp on his nightstand. Magnus grabbed his toothbrush and a fresh towel and put the thoughts of his crazy roommate out of his mind as he got ready for bed.

When he came back a few minutes later, Derek had wrapped his arms around Stiles in his sleep, Stiles' head on Derek's shoulder, and it looked far too familiar to be as casual as Stiles had claimed.

***  
The following morning, Magnus woke up before the alarm went off. He turned his head and was treated to a view that he happily could have lived without. Stiles was wrapped octopus-style around Derek, who was awake but obviously tolerating the treatment judging by the almost soft expression on his face. When he noticed Magnus' gaze, he scowled and poked at Stiles' shoulder.

"Morning," Magnus said and waved. Stiles' hand came up in greeting before he pushed at Derek, who let Stiles untangle himself at his own speed, obviously used to it.

"Breakfast, man, I'm starving." Stiles flailed and fell out of the bed, landing on the floor with a thump. Derek rolled his eyes and held out a hand, which Stiles grabbed and used to pull himself up. "Thanks. Come on, Derek, I know the best place to get scrambled eggs and bacon." 

"Of course you do," Derek replied; the somewhat fond and indulgent look was back on his face even as he rolled his eyes again.

"Stiles," Magnus hissed when Derek went into the bathroom, catching his roommate's attention. "You could have warned me that your boyfriend was coming over."

"Derek's not my boyfriend," Stiles answered and furrowed his eyebrows. "He's just a friend, who happens to be a boy. Man."

"Uh-huh," Magnus answered. "And he looks like a convict!" His voice was low enough that Derek shouldn't have been able to hear him, but apparently he had no such luck.

"I was acquitted," Derek's voice reached them from behind the closed bathroom door. He stuck his head out, toothbrush in his hand, and held Magnus' gaze. "Lack of evidence," he elaborated. Magnus blinked and Derek closed the bathroom door again while Stiles made desperate shushing noises at it.

"Don't break my new shiny roommate!" Stiles yelled finally. "I just got him!"

"Uh," Magnus said, thoughts derailing at the information. He wondered if this was why he got pitying looks by some of the guys whenever his roommate's name came up in conversation. Stiles was a year ahead of him and he was pretty sure that this wasn't the first time that Derek had crashed in Stiles' bed. They had looked way too cosy for that.

"Then don't act like an idiot," Derek replied and came out of the bathroom. Shirtless. Again. Magnus was pretty sure that those abs couldn't be real. No one outside of bodybuilders had muscles like that. And he was also pretty sure that they couldn't be attained with steroids; there was no way that these were mostly water.

"I'm not!" Stiles flailed wildly, and succeeded only in knocking his lamp off the nightstand. He caught it at the last possible moment and glared at Derek whose eyebrows were doing their thing. "Not one word. Not one."

Derek looked him up and down instead. "Are you planning on going to breakfast in your underwear?"

The look that Stiles gave him could have peeled the paint off of the walls. "Keep it up, buddy, and we'll see exactly where you'll sleep tonight."

One corner of Derek's mouth twitched. "Scott and Alison seem to have enough space."

"Ha!" Stiles replied as he pulled on his pants. "We'll see how long you'll put up with them before you run screaming for your sanity. There's a reason why I'm not sharing a flat with them – they get loud."

Derek's grimace said it all. "Point taken. Now, get going. I've got places to be today."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You can at least buy me breakfast if you're going to grump at me the morning after," he grumbled. 

"You have class in less than half an hour," Derek pointed out. "I'm going to have to buy you breakfast and shove it down your throat to make sure that you'll be there on time."

"Promises, promises," Stiles simpered in a truly terrifying way. Derek and Magnus exchanged a look of sheer horror before Stiles grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom. 

"So you've known each other long?" Magnus asked because he couldn't quite help himself. Derek's look said everything Magnus needed to know about his feelings about small talk.

"Long enough," Derek replied finally and with the slightest hint of a grin he raised his voice. "And he's been a pain in my ass the whole time."

"Hey!" Stiles yelled from the bathroom, his voice slightly mangled by the fact that he had a toothbrush in his mouth. "I resent that! If it wasn't for me, you would've gotten that ass fried more than once!" 

"Yeah, yeah," Derek rolled his eyes again. "I've heard it all before. And if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been in trouble half of the times in the first place."

The look that Stiles gave him as he tore the door open was lethal and Magnus watched as it bounced off of Derek like a mosquito off of a windshield. "Do you really want to go there, Derek?" Stiles asked calmly. Too calmly. Magnus waited for the explosion, but Derek just smirked at him. Stiles' eyes narrowed and he huffed.

"After breakfast," Derek grabbed Stiles – who flailed wildly for his bag and shirt – by the arm and pulled him towards the door. "Let's get some coffee and you can tell me all about it. I promise I'll even pretend to listen this time."

"Dude, I'll make a bloody pop quiz for you today!" Stiles threatened and shook Derek's hand off of him. "And I'm not done yet, I've got three classes today, I've got to get my stuff."

Magnus didn't have an early class that day, so he turned around and crawled back under the blanket to try and forget what he had just witnessed. By the sound of it, there was a lot of flailing as Stiles rushed around the room to gather the things he had forgotten to pack the night before, but Derek's presence seemed to have a grounding effect on him and they were out the door in record time. Stiles' excited voice carried through the hallway as usual, accompanied by the occasional grunt from Derek.

***  
Derek became a more or less permanent fixture in their room after that. He showed up twice or three times the week and he always stayed the night. They usually ended up watching movies on Stiles' laptop, curled around each other and sharing popcorn and soda as if they had nothing against swapping spit by accident. (It also looked cosy and domestic and Magnus caught Stiles tilting his head to the side more often than not when Derek looked too long at him. It seemed instinctual, as if he had done it for years and wasn't even aware that he did it anymore, and sometimes there was the odd neck-movement on Derek's part as well. Magnus decided that he was better off not knowing.)

Magnus didn't have much against Derek, or Stiles for that matter; or even against the two of them together, but Derek with his moody and broody scowls could be downright terrifying when he wanted and Magnus developed a healthy sense of self-preservation long before Thanksgiving rolled around. He was acutely aware of the fact that he was rather scrawny in comparison to Derek (whom he had once or twice caught hauling Stiles off simply by slinging him – laughing and protesting – over his shoulder as if Stiles weighed next to nothing) and therefore tried to stay on his good side and if that failed, simply stay the fuck out of his way. Derek seemed to take this in stride and left Magnus alone.

Therefore Magnus was quite surprised when Derek cornered him one day before Stiles had come back from where he was doing a burger-and-fries-run for the three of them. Magnus was on his own bed, minding his own business and trying to get his scrambled brains together to get started on the paper due the next day, when Derek suddenly loomed over him.

"Yes?" Magnus asked, expecting Derek to ask to borrow one thing or other. Stiles wasn't the most organized of people after all.

"You don't seem to be bothered by the fact that I keep on showing up here." Derek said. Unannounced went without saying. Magnus was pretty sure that Stiles had given him a key since he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time in their room and the other alternative was that he climbed in through the window, which wasn't exactly possible seeing as they lived on the third floor.

"Should I be?" Magnus asked distractedly. Derek's question had brought him out of his concentration and he frowned at the screen where the cursor blinked mockingly at him at the fresh and oh so empty document. 

Derek's look spoke volumes and Magnus found himself twitching under the steady pressure. The first impression of a dangerous ex-convict might not have been a hundred per cent right in the technical sense of the word, but Derek sure knew how to come across as one.

Magnus fidgeted, took a deep breath before he forced himself to meet the razor sharp look.

"Okay, look, I don't really give a damn whom Stiles hangs out with or doesn't hang out with or what he does or with whom," he began when it became rather clear that Derek expected him to talk. Jesus, they should hire him for Gitmo or something, he was sure that anyone would crack under that look. At least it made _him_ crack - Magnus found himself suddenly very eager to spill the beans. "And I'm not in the habit of spreading rumours – but do you know how many of the guys have been asking me questions in the past few weeks?" The sad part was he wasn't sure how many of those wanted to know to avoid Stiles because they thought he was gay and how many actually wanted to get into Derek's pants, because even for a completely straight guy, there was something equally compelling and terrifying about Derek. It was a pretty even split, by his reckoning. 

Derek's look turned even more sour. "I can only imagine."

"Dude," Magnus began even as Derek's gaze turned his insides to liquid in sheer terror again. He was as emotionally constipated as the next guy, but apparently he would have to clue Derek in on how he and Stiles came across to others since they seemed to have missed that memo completely. "Have you seen the two of you together? I know that 'bromance' is in, but the two of you really take it to ridiculous levels."

There must have been a trick of the light, because Magnus was pretty sure that Derek's eyes flashed red before he replied. "I see. So you're saying that our… bromance…" The word seemed to pain him, "Is too much romance?"

Magnus shrugged. "It doesn't bother me, to be honest, I don't particularly care what you do or don't do as long as I don't have to know about it, but it's making some of the guys on the floor a bit uncomfortable. Truth to be told, I wouldn't be surprised if the two of you will end up getting into trouble because of it."

Derek was silent for a while. Long enough that Magnus thought that the conversation was over and turned back to his paper, cursing himself for leaving it until the last possible moment. Then Derek spoke again.

"Tell Stiles that I'll call him tonight." Derek was out the door before Magnus had even had the time to reply. He shrugged, reminding himself that it wasn't his business anyway.

When Stiles came back a few minutes later and Magnus related the whole conversation to him, Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone. "Scott? Yeah, he bailed on me. I'm heading over – and you better be dressed this time!"

Magnus waved at him as Stiles swore, stumbled over his own feet and grabbed two of the three meals he had brought and shot out the door like the devil himself was chasing him.

***  
Magnus didn't see Derek for a couple of weeks after that but Stiles' other friends, most of which he was not-so-secretly-terrified, showed up more often. He had met Scott and Alison and got along with them just fine, but it were Isaac, Boyd and most of all Erica who scared the hell out of him. Stiles called Erica Catwoman, for whatever reason; and she referred to him as Batman and petted his hair every time she had managed to wrestle him down on the bed (which was every time she showed up).

Boyd was silently terrifying as he rarely spoke but obviously had an opinion about everything which he silently communicated to the others; Isaac was somewhat more outgoing but still terrifying because he usually looked like he wanted to eat Magnus (and not in a kinky way, which Magnus surprisingly wouldn't have been totally against. He came to that conclusion after drinking way too much the day after handing in yet another paper on 18th century literature and its influence on modern society. His sexuality was definitely rearing its figuratively alternative head the more time he spent around Stiles and his friends.). 

He blinked, shook his head and blinked again at the four of them entangled – wearing way too little clothes – on Stiles' bed in what seemed like a prelude to an orgy but was hopefully just a group cuddle. Stiles was in the middle, his head resting in Erica's lap where she leaned on Boyd and Isaac wrapped around Stiles from the other side. It looked cosy and very much bordering on illegal.

Magnus opened his mouth to greet them with something resembling level-headed dignity – he wasn't a blushing virgin! – but what came out was a strangled, "Does Derek know about this?"

"Hmm?" Stiles asked and spared a glare at Erica until she continued to pet him. "About what?" 

"About this?" He waved a hand to describe the situation on the bed. Erica's smirk was lethal and Magnus decided that he was definitely needed somewhere else. Preferably on the other side of campus. His mouth, however, couldn't seem to get the memo. "I mean," he continued to his own horror, "You two seemed so… cosy… not long ago."

Erica giggled. Isaac smirked and Boyd… Well, Magnus wasn't sure what Boyd was thinking because Boyd just stared stoically ahead, still playing with Erica's long hair.

Stiles turned his head to shush at Erica before he turned his attention back at Magnus. "'This'?" He waved a hand to encompass the entire bed and quite possibly the room, "Is not really any of Derek's business."

Erica and Isaac broke out laughing at that and not even Boyd managed to keep a smirk off of his face. Magnus felt vaguely insulted as if he was missing the point. He didn't, however, want to have to take to the witness stand if Derek went berserk and killed them all. 

"Oh, don't worry," Stiles said and smirked at Magnus when he voiced his concerns. "He wouldn't kill anyone."

"I'm not so sure about that," Magnus said under his breath because he had seen far too much of Derek not to have at least suspicions that he could kill someone when properly motivated. It was too quiet for them to hear, but something must have set them off again, because Erica and Isaac were giggling like mad. Stiles was watching them with a fond look on his face before he tugged on Boyd's wrist and pulled him down so that they were even closer. 

Magnus decided that it was time for him to hit the library and hoped that Stiles had decided to take his foursome somewhere else by the time he came back.

***  
The next time that Magnus saw Derek was at a frat party that he had (mis-)fortune to attend. He wasn't much for parties in the first place, he preferred to stay home and watch a good movie instead, but Stiles had dragged him along with the promise of getting him drunk enough to forget the girl – Jessica – whom he had been really interested in before it had turned out that she actually had a girlfriend.

Magnus was beginning to consider himself cursed.

"Come on, man," Stiles said and pulled him through the doors to the party. "It'll be good for you to get out there and see how many other fishes there are in the sea! Or girls in bikini. Surfing. Heh." Stiles' gaze went a little unfocused and Magnus decided that he'd leave him to his fantasies.

Instead he found himself sandwiched between a couple – who certainly didn't seem to mind him there in the middle, so that was a win – with something alcoholic in his hand and no Stiles in sight. Then someone ran past him and he turned his head to watch Stiles disappear outside again, waving enthusiastically. 

"Derek!" He shouted loud enough to wake the dead and sure enough, there Derek was, looking not quite as uncomfortable as Magnus did (but it was close) and Stiles bounced up to him, gave the girls who had descended on Derek with predatory looks on their faces quite the glare and slung his arm around Derek's shoulder before he dragged him towards the house.

"Magnus," Derek greeted him pleasantly enough as he passed by.

"Derek," Magnus said. "Nice to see you again."

The corner of Derek's mouth quirked up and the girls around him sucked in a collective breath and almost swooned. "Have a good time tonight."

"You too!" Magnus shouted after them as they disappeared into the mass of well-on-their-way-to-get-drunk-college-students. Derek waved at him without turning around, so Magnus took it as the only reply he was going to get. 

To his own surprise, he ended up having quite the time and didn't see Stiles or Derek until the early hours in the morning, when Derek was supporting a very drunk Stiles out the door and towards the black Camaro that he had arrived in. Stiles was giggling to himself and touching Derek everywhere he could reach. Derek looked stoically used to the whole thing and Magnus wondered just how often he had played designated driver for Stiles.

"Need a ride?" Derek asked. "I could use some help to get him back in one piece. He's got it into his head that he absolutely needs curly fries. It's going to take some convincing to make him forget it."

His voice was warm and softer than Magnus would have expected even as he rolled his eyes at Stiles' pawing, moving the hands gently out of way when they got too grabby. Magnus shrugged. 

"Sure, thanks man." Derek nodded at him and hauled Stiles into the backseat. 

"Dude, I want fries," Stiles said suddenly, as if the revelation was long overdue and sat up unsteadily. "Curly fries."

"You're not getting any curly fries, Stiles," Derek replied with what sounded like infinite patience. "It's almost three in the morning, there's nothing open."

"McDonalds," Stiles pouted and tried to glare at Derek as Magnus climbed into the front seat. The glare was somewhat destroyed by the fact that his eyes kept on crossing. "They're open."

"Sorry buddy," Magnus said as he strapped himself in – he was pretty sure that Derek hadn't been drinking, he didn't seem the type to drink when he had to be responsible for others, but that didn't count for all the other idiots out there who had and safety first and all that – and threw Stiles a tired grin. "They're closed as well."

Stiles pouted for a long moment. "Fine," he grumbled finally. "But I want it on record that the two of you suck."

Derek rolled his eyes. Magnus shook his head. Stiles passed out in the backseat.

They arrived at the dorm a little later and Magnus held the doors open for Derek as he carried Stiles up the stairs, careful not to jostle him too much.

"Thank you," Derek said as he deposited Stiles on the bed. 

Magnus waved him off and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he came back out again, Derek had gotten most of Stiles' clothes off and was wrestling him under the blankets. There was water and painkillers on the nightstand.

"'m not feeling so good," Stiles moaned suddenly. Derek chuckled quietly and petted him on the head.

"That would be because you've drunk your own weight in alcohol tonight. I told you to take it easy." Derek's voice was softer than Magnus would have expected. He slipped under his blankets and lay on his back, trying to keep the room from spinning too much. It didn't keep him from witnessing what was happening on the other side of the room, however.

"'m not you," Stiles grumbled and turned his head. "Oh God, I think I'm gonna puke!"

Derek grabbed Stiles' wrists and pressed down. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks," Stiles mumbled. "Stay?"

"Sure," Derek said. "Just let me brush my teeth, okay?"

"Mmmm… Hurry up… 'm tired…" Stiles' eyes were almost closed again and he patted the bed beside himself once before his hand flapped to the side.

Magnus closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of Derek in the bathroom. Stiles was out like a light by the time he came out again and Derek manhandled him into a more comfortable position, as well as making sure that he wouldn't choke if he puked in his sleep, before turning off the light on Stiles' nightstand and slipping into bed beside him.

It felt as if he had intruded on something very private and it left a sour taste in the back of Magnus' mouth.

***  
Derek was around more often after that again. Magnus didn't exactly ask where he had been, but based on Stiles' ramblings he could puzzle together an approximate idea. He had gotten the general hint that Derek wasn't a college student but rather a bit older and possibly self-employed, judging by the phone calls he sometimes got from someone named Peter and how he and Stiles had to leave in the middle of their movie marathons to go deal with whatever was the problem. Stiles was never happy when that happened, not that Magnus was surprised, but it seemed to go deeper than just his possibly-pseudo-boyfriend's job screwing their dates (not that he'd ever say that word out loud to either Stiles or Derek - he liked his balls where they were, thank you very much and he didn't doubt that Derek could and would rip them off if he was properly motivated) over.

Magnus' life continued on as usual, until the day right before Christmas break when he came back to the room to find a strange man lounging around on Stiles' bed as if he owned the place.

"Hello," Magnus said uncertainly. "Can I help you?"

The man looked him up and down and a shiver went down Magnus' spine. If he had ever thought that Derek carried violence within him, this man was ten times worse. There was something creepy about him, something that set Magnus on edge. 

"Is Stiles around?" The man asked finally, his gaze still strangely intent on Magnus as he set down his bag on the bed. He counted himself lucky that the stranger hadn't decided to take his bed and had instead chosen Stiles', because he didn't think that he would have dared to kick him off of it.

"Um," Magnus said, "I'm pretty sure he's got class until three. You can come back then if you want?"

The man rolled his eyes. "I'll wait." The gaze turned sly. "So you're Magnus, Stiles' roommate." He looked him up and down again and Magnus sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to keep his eyes on the man.

"Yes," he answered finally. Then he cleared his throat. "And you are…?"

The man rose and stepped over the room to hold out his hand for Magnus to shake. "Peter Hale, Derek's uncle. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Magnus said and was more than relieved when Hale decided to return to Stiles' bed instead of trying to rip Magnus' throat out with his teeth or something like that. Hale definitely looked the part of a crazy killer with his calm, almost serene, smile and the way his eyes seemed to take in every movement that Magnus made.

"How's Stiles doing?" Hale asked after a moment, his fingers running over Stiles' comforter as if he couldn't help himself. Magnus' Creep-O-Meter was in the red, lights flashing and sirens howling.

"He's, uh, he's doing fine as far as I know," Magnus shrugged. 

"Many late nights?" Hale prodded. "Staying out late, bringing back strange people?"

"Just, uh, Derek," Magnus answered and wondered why the hell Hale even was interested in whatever Stiles was doing. "We usually stay out of each other's way. He's a good roommate, and I've kind of gotten used to Derek."

Hale chuckled. "Ah, yes, Derek. My dear nephew."

"If you don't mind me asking," Magnus started, wetting his lips and tried not to squirm as Hale's cold gaze caught the movement, "Why are you here? I mean, Stiles isn't due for another," oh God, "twenty-five minutes, if he even comes here right after class."

"Oh, he will," Hale replied. "Trust me, he wouldn't want to miss this for the world."

"Good," Magnus said. "Well, that's good." Run, his brain screamed at him and he rose again, gesturing at the books. "Well, it was nice meeting you, I've got to head to the library and if I see Stiles I'll be sure to tell him you're waiting for him."

"Have fun," Hale smirked and waved a hand in the general direction of the door. 

Magnus was halfway down the hallway when Stiles and Derek, both with coffee in their hands, turned the corner. Derek stopped dead and stared right at their door and Stiles' puzzled look turned to something between horror and fury.

"You've got a guest," Magnus informed them.

"Noted," Derek said without taking his eyes off of the door to their room. "Let me deal with this, Stiles."

"What?!" Stiles protested, "It's my room, you're not going to talk to him alone!"

"He's my uncle."

"That doesn't mean that you can behave like a-- a-- Derek!"  
Derek ignored him, shoved his coffee into Stiles' free hand and all but growled as he stalked down the hallway. 

Magnus decided that his curiosity wasn't worth his life and took the stairs two at a time. He wasn't fast enough, however, not to hear the raised voices - and it was no surprise to him that Stiles' was the loudest - that carried down the hallway.

***  
Peter Hale didn't show up again, but there were a couple of very suspicious dark stains on the floor in their room that Stiles did his best to cover up with a really ugly carpet that he brought in the next day. Magnus didn't want to know and definitely didn't ask what the hell had happened - he had no proof that Derek had finally killed someone, that someone being his creepy uncle, and he was going to stay the hell out of it. Stiles was a big boy, he could handle himself.

Christmas break was over and they were back again. Stiles had gone home over break, back to Beacon Hills, and had regaled Magnus with wild tales of what he and his friends had been up to. Magnus listened with half an ear as there was a knock on the door and Stiles shot up from the bed, narrowly missed landing on his face as he regained balance and, with arms propelling him forward, slammed into the door.

"Lydia!" He exclaimed and the petite redhead on the other side pounced on him with a squeal.

"Oh my God, Stiles!" She was followed into the room by two other guys and there went Magnus' quiet time as all four was talking over each other in excitement. 

Stiles introduced them as Lydia, Jackson and Danny, and apparently they were all close friends from home - that were dropping by for a visit. 

Danny and Lydia were rather open and enthusiastic while Jackson kept his mouth shut except for making snide remarks about the room, Stiles' half at least, and the college he had chosen, until Stiles rolled his eyes and made grabbing movements towards Jackson.

"Oh come here, you asshole, and give me a proper hug." Danny choked on air and Lydia just looked proud as Jackson finally took a step forward, turning his head to the side and Stiles grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a real hug. Jackson stood stiffly for a moment before he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Only you, Stilinski," he muttered, but there was a small smile on his face as he returned the embrace. 

"And that's why you love me," Stiles beamed and got hit on the head for his troubles. 

"Don't push it," Jackson growled. Stiles tugged on Jackson's hair and slung his arm around his friend's shoulder and pulled him towards the bed.

"Such a grumpy puppy," Stiles grinned evilly (Magnus was rather familiar with the expression) and judging by the look of horror on Jackson's face so was he, "A real puppy pile will make you feel much better."

"Cut it out, Stilinski," Jackson snapped but was pushed forward by both Danny and Lydia and Magnus decided that he most definitely didn't want to know exactly what Stiles had going on with all of his friends as they landed in a tangle of arms and legs on the bed. Jackson grumbled for a moment longer before settling in and only snapping once at Stiles' hand with his teeth. 

Magnus decided to make his retreat earlier rather than later this time.

***  
He came back late that night, hoping against hope to find Stiles' bed unoccupied. The, uh, puppy pile was still there, all four of them curled up around each other. And Derek standing over them with an unreadable expression on his face.

Magnus decided that he was not going to be creeped out by this - rather Derek than Peter, after all - and went straight to bed. Stiles' weird friends could wait.

***  
A few days later, Magnus was in the middle of finishing yet another essay, when Stiles stumbled in with Derek over his shoulder. Derek's head was hanging down and he didn't look very good.

"Stiles?" Magnus asked carefully, wondering if he should make a break for it.

"Get away from the door!" Stiles said, dumping Derek unceremoniously on the bed and slamming the door shut, locking it and shoving a desk chair under the handle.

"What the hell is going on?" Magnus asked. He didn't like the look on Stiles' face and he most certainly didn't like the heavy steps outside. There was a knock on the door and Stiles made abortive motions as Magnus took a step closer.

"No! Don't open it!" Stiles was scrambling around in his wardrobe, throwing clothes over his shoulder before he reached whatever he was searching for. A glass bottle filled with what looked like ash.

"What the hell, Stiles?" Magnus demanded as whoever was on the other side knocked again. "What the hell is wrong with you, man?"

"Can't explain now, later!" Stiles panted and spread the ash in front of the door before he whirled around and made another line at the window. "And whatever you do, don't break the lines!"

"Are you insane?" Magnus asked. It was a little too much for him, the stress from the paper together with having strange people in their room at all hours and now Stiles' very erratic behaviour was making Magnus rather pissed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

There was a knock again on the door and someone tried the handle. Stiles swore. "Whatever you do, don't open it, okay? They can't get to us if you don't open it." He was typing a message into his phone with trembling hands before he threw it on the bed beside Derek.

"Stiles," a voice that Magnus didn't recognize crooned from behind the door, "Come on, let me in, I know you want to."

Stiles swallowed. "Go away! I don't want to have anything to do with you."

"Let me in," the voice tried again. "Come on, let me have the wolf."

"No!" Stiles shouted. "You can't have him, he's mine!"

"Let me in!" The cajoling was gone and replaced with pure fury. Magnus backed away from the door, his heart beating twice as fast. The taste of fear was sour in his mouth.

"What the hell is that?" He demanded. "Stiles!"

"Later," Stiles said and scrubbed a hand over his face before he turned to the bed. "Derek, oh God, Derek, come on, man, wake up!"

Derek was unconscious for a few moments longer before he suddenly opened his eyes. Instead of his usual eye colour, they were a pale yellow. Stiles swallowed and backed away as Derek sat up.

"Magnus," he said, his voice still steady despite the way his hands trembled. "Get into the bathroom and lock the door. Here, take this and make a line, believe that it will keep everything out and it will." He handed the glass bottle with the ash to Magnus, who looked at it in confusion.

"Are you sure that this will work?" He asked just as Derek-who-was-not-quite-Derek rose from the bed and took a halting step towards Stiles. 

"Yeah, if you believe, it will," Stiles breathed back.

Not-Derek smiled and looked at Magnus. "Good luck, kid." And then his hands grew honest to God claws and Stiles pushed Magnus towards the bathroom door without breaking eye contact with Not-Derek.

"Get in!" Stiles hissed as Not-Derek took a step forward again.

"What about you?" Magnus asked, because even though he was so not on board with whatever was happening here, he also couldn't leave Stiles alone.

"I'll be fine, as long as you're out of the way," Stiles replied, making a grabbing movement towards his aluminium bat. Not-Derek's eyes narrowed, the pupils expanding until there was nothing but black and Magnus couldn't look away from them, couldn't tear his eyes from the way reality seemed to shift. He stumbled toward the bathroom door, but it slammed closed in front of him and no matter how he tore at the handle did it even budge.

"Okay," Stiles squeaked and swallowed, "New plan."

"Stiles," Not-Derek ground out between honest-to-God fangs, the black of his eyes receding and leaving a sliver of yellow around the irises. Stiles was swallowing heavily as he backed out of reach of Not-Derek, his bat held high in his hands. "Give me what I want and I'll let you both live."

"No you won't," Stiles replied and where he found the courage to, Magnus couldn't even begin to fathom. He felt as if he was going to piss his pants just by the way Not-Derek was looking at them. "You're going to kill us both, because that's what you do, isn't it?"

Not-Derek shook his head, slowly, as if he weren't used to the motion. "No, we make bargains and we keep them. You can have anything you want in return for what I want."

"It'll cost me more than it's worth," Stiles snapped back at Not-Derek. "You'll take my words and you'll twist them and you'll make sure that I'll suffer because that's what you do."

Not-Derek continued on as if he hadn't heard Stiles' vehement exclamation of no!. "I can give you all your heart's desires. This," he swept a hand along his body, "Could be yours."

Stiles shook his head. "No, I don't want him like this. I want him because he wants me, not because I made a deal with a devil."

"What?!" Magnus squeaked. "Devil? Are you out of your mind?"  
Not-Derek turned his gaze onto Magnus, who felt as if his knees were about to give way under him. He steadied himself on the wall behind and tried to keep Stiles' bat in front of him. Bat good, Not-Derek bad.

"And you, dear Magnus, what would you give to have all your heart's desires?" Images flickered in front of Magnus' eyes; his proud parents as he was presented award after award for his important work in literature - perhaps even the Nobel Prize - and a long a healthy life with a wife who was just as beautiful when they grew old as she was when they first met, children and grandchildren, a chance to change the world… Magnus shook his head to clear it.

"Don't say yes," Stiles muttered at him, still intent on Not-Derek. "No matter what he offers you, don't accept it."

Magnus was getting a really bad feeling about this and he swallowed. "Trust me, dude, I won't." Stiles seemed to relax just the slightest bit at that.

"Too bad for you," Not-Derek said with a slight smile. "Now I have to kill you both. And I'll enjoy it very much I think. You know what, Stiles? After I've killed you, I'm going to really make this meatsuit suffer like he's never suffered before."

Stiles drew in a deep breath, released it with something close to a sob, but hefted his bat up higher. "You can try. Come and get it, big boy, I'll break every bone in your body if I have to."

"Ah, yes, how could I forget? This body can heal itself quicker than you can break its bones. You want to test it?" Not-Derek's eyes went black again and Stiles swallowed. 

"He'll heal," Stiles muttered to himself as if to psyche himself up. "He'll heal, he'll heal, come on, Stilinski, he'll heal."

Not-Derek watched him with a curious tilt to his head. "Or should I perhaps let Derek speak for himself?"

There was a sick look on Stiles' face at that. Not-Derek smiled at him and between one breath and the next, the pressure in the room faded. Derek's knees buckled under him and Stiles swore and dropped the bat to catch him.

"Derek?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, and Magnus had to look away. "Come on, man, don't do this to me."

"Stiles? Where am I?" Derek asked and brought a hand up to his temple. "Head hurts. It hurts." 

Stiles looked on the verge of tears as he reached for Derek's face. "I'm sorry, Derek, I'm so sorry."

Derek looked like he wanted to say something as he turned his head to the side. He had problems breathing, gasping as he whispered something to Stiles that Magnus didn't catch. Stiles sobbed as he grasped at Derek's shoulders, holding him up even as Derek's eyes rolled back in his head. 

"Help me move him to the bed," Stiles said, holding onto Derek as if his life depended on it. "And get me the box at the back of my closet, the one with the Triskelion on top."

Magnus decided that he was better off not knowing but doing as Stiles asked as there was a commotion outside of the door - it sounded remarkably like wolves; snarling, growling and howling out their anger and Magnus stumbled back from the door as it bulged under the impact.

"What the hell?!" He demanded again.

"No time, help me get him on the bed!" Stiles barked out and Magnus didn't even think before his feet were moving and he was hauling Derek over the floor and dumping him on the bed. Stiles was digging in his closet again as Derek's eyes fluttered open again and Magnus was looking at Not-Derek again.

"Stiles!" He squeaked (whenever anyone asked afterwards, it was a very manly squeak, thank you very much) and pointed at Not-Derek who was sitting up again. "It's - He's back!"

"Stay!" Stiles hissed at Not-Derek, who was obviously surprised enough to halt his body before his feet hit the floor. "Magnus, open the window, clear the ash from the window sill and then get the hell out of the way, I've got demon ass to kick."

Magnus had, at this point, mostly given up on keeping his sanity and settled for trying to get out of there, preferably still alive and with most of his limbs intact, and as soon as he had broken the line of ash on the window sill, Not-Derek smiled at him.

"You're either very brave or very foolish, Magnus," Not-Derek said and watched them with his yellow eyes. Calm, as if he were waiting for something.

"I'm so not liking this," Magnus informed the universe in general. The snarling and growling from outside of the door had stopped and he took another step towards the bathroom door, trying the handle. It was still locked. "And I can taste sour in my mouth. I'm so not okay with this."

"Sometimes you've gotta do what you gotta do," Stiles replied and then turned his attention towards Not-Derek, who was now lounging on his bed as if he belonged there. The demon - Magnus officially gave up and called him that in his head, he might as well - was watching them with interest.

"You really think that a puny human like yourself can drive me out once I've hooked my claws in?" Not-Derek asked curiously.

Stiles blinked at him. "Do you really think that a puny demon like yourself can stay in there once I've decided to drive you out?"

Not-Derek smiled. "Fair enough. Let's see what you can do. And please no Latin, it doesn't work on me anyway, I'm not that kind of boy."

Stiles actually choked out a laugh at that. "I'll keep that in mind. You tell me when you start getting all warm and tingly, okay?"

Not-Derek's smile turned nasty. "Hit me with your best shot."

And Stiles did. Magnus wasn't sure just what happened next, because he had given up on ever getting out of there alive and was sitting in front of the bathroom door and cursing his life, watching as it flickered past in ultra-violet (he would later blame that on the fact that he kept on banging his head against the door) and let Stiles work his mojo.

Later, he probably couldn't say a thing about what transpired - not because he didn't see it, but because he wasn't sure that he could accurately describe it even to himself. There were no explosions of light, no projectile vomit (green or otherwise) and no chanting.

But there was Stiles, calm as Magnus had never seen him before, in the middle of the room, with the bat forgotten at his feet, a small glowing object hidden in his hands. Not the glow of a lamp, but softer, sweeter, and definitely more deadly. Magnus couldn't look at it for too long before he started to get queasy and had to search out something else to fixate on. 

For the first few moments, Not-Derek's slight smile grew as he lazily stepped closer with the grace of a born predator (and Magnus didn't want to touch that possibility with a ten foot pole), but with each step, he became slower, until he couldn't move at all. 

"Feeling warm and tingly yet?" Stiles asked, still concentrating on the object in his hands. "Any urges to leave Derek's body?"

Not-Derek smirked, but it was slightly forced. "No. And you better hope that you're strong enough to evict me, human, because if you're not…" The clawed hands flexed threateningly and Magnus couldn't look away. 

"You'll regret ever fucking with us," Stiles replied, his voice strained as he took a step forward - Magnus had to admire the guts that took, because he was pretty sure that he'd stay as far as physically possible away from someone who was possessed by a freaking demon. "And I hope for your sake that you're on good terms with your boss, because you're so going to have to explain this cock-up to him sooner rather than later."

"We'll see about that!" Not-Derek growled and Stiles lost the concentration for just a moment, but apparently a moment was enough because the demon almost broke loose and reached for him, clawing in the air to get through the golden shimmer that had settled around Stiles' body. The attack left dark marks in the protective layer and Stiles grunted in pain.

"That wasn't very nice of you," Stiles breathed out, barely loud enough for Magnus to hear. 

Not-Derek's smile was nasty. "I'm not meant to be nice." He lashed out again and Stiles sucked in another pained breath. 

"Guess I don't have to play nice then either," Stiles grunted out and raised his hands, the glow almost blinding from between his fingers.

He closed the distance between them and they were chest to chest, eye to eye, and Not-Derek, despite sweating and swearing and threatening to inflict so much bodily harm on Stiles that he'd die the most painful of deaths, couldn't move an inch. He clawed in the air, trying to reach Stiles - growling and twisting, his face changing, his nose and teeth elongating, like a wolf's snout. Stiles dropped the glowing object and grabbed Not-Derek's wrists, forced them down to his sides, and held them perfectly still there without ever breaking eye contact.

"Leave." 

With one last howl, Not-Derek collapsed on the floor. Something dissipated in the air above him and Stiles sneezed and waved his hand above Derek's head a few times. His eyes were red and he was shaking, but he knelt in front of Derek and shook him with a sure hand.

"Derek?"

"Stiles?" It was Derek's voice and Magnus closed his eyes in relief. He didn't think that he could handle a dead body on top of everything.

"Magnus, can you please open the door again?" Stiles didn't take his eyes or hands off of Derek as he helped him up and towards the bed. 

Magnus did as he was asked, stumbling to his feet - his legs were like spaghetti - and broke the line of ash at the door before he opened it.

Outside were all of Stiles' and Derek's friends - including creepy Uncle Peter - in varying states of snouted faces and strangely gleaming eyes. Magnus decided that he had definitely had enough for this day - and barely managed to sit down on the floor before he fainted.

***  
It wasn't as if it was Stiles' fault, not really. He had done all he could to protect Magnus from the supernatural occurrences in his life - just as he had done everything he possibly could do protect his previous roommates - but sometimes the shit just had to hit the fan.

"Let me give you a hand," Stiles said as Magnus hauled the last of his boxes out of the room. Ever since that night when Derek had been possessed - which was less than a week ago but it sure seemed like forever - Magnus had avoided him to the best of his abilities, crashing at friends' places until his room transfer went through.

"Thanks," Magnus said quietly. "Look, Stiles, I'm sorry, but I really can't keep up with all of this crazy shit that's happening around you and--"

Stiles shrugged. "It's okay; you don't have to apologize, okay? I'd just… Please just keep this to yourself?"

Magnus' laugh was barely on the right side of crazy. "Who would believe me anyway?"

Stiles could feel the tired smile on his face slip. He had heard those exact same words with every other roommate that had been fleeing halfway through the year - Magnus had lasted the longest - and he nodded. "Yeah," he managed finally. "Who would believe you, huh?"

Derek was waiting outside the room and pretended not to notice the way Magnus made a wide berth around him. Stiles shrugged at Derek's look, it wasn't as if there was anything that he could do. He had quite liked Magnus - he had been much nicer than Mike, for example - and he had hoped that the supernatural stuff would have backed off long enough for him to at least finish one year of college with the same roommate that he had started the year off with. Not to mention that the counsellor's office was getting rather pissed at him for scaring yet another roommate off and he was going to get into some real trouble this time.  
Stiles came back into his room after waving Magnus off to find Derek on the bed.

"You know, I could get used to this," Derek said suddenly, not quite looking at Stiles. 

"Get used to what?" Stiles grumbled and sat down on the bed, toeing his shoes off before he curled into the warmth of Derek's body. The werewolf's hand landed on his hip automatically, holding him there and Stiles tipped his head to the side. The movement was as much instinct as it was learned and Derek's pleased rumble made him laugh quietly and he reached up to pull on Derek's ear. "You're such a sourwolf."

"I'm not. And I was talking about no more roommates for you." 

"Next year I'll ask for a single," Stiles agreed. "Either that or I'll move in with Scott and Alison and hope that my poor brain won't break in the process."

"Or you could move in with me." Derek said, tensing slightly as Stiles' hand, which had been carding through his hair, faltered. 

"Dude," Stiles began as his heart galloped away with him (and he knew that Derek could hear it and it wasn't fair because it wasn't as if Derek didn't have a clue otherwise either), "Where would we even live?"

Derek pushed himself up on one elbow. "Peter's got an apartment in the city."

"I'm not moving in with you and Peter!" Stiles hissed and punched Derek's shoulder for good measure. Derek grinned at him, and caught his hand before he could do any greater damage and Stiles was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat before it settled back into its previous rhythm. "Dude, no. Just… No."

"He's not living there, and he said I could have it." There was something so open and raw on Derek's face that Stiles had to close his eyes and sigh.

"Okay," he tried, because what the hell - it wasn't every day that the guy of your dreams asked you to move in with him. "Cards on the table. And I mean all the cards," here he made sure to hold Derek's gaze for as long as it took for the werewolf to nod, "Where we are describing the cards using our words - no grunts and growls - and we will talk about this."

He could tell that Derek was highly amused just by the way his lips were quirking up as if he were trying not to laugh poor Stiles in the face at his demands. "Sure," he agreed easily. "Words. Where do you want me to start?"

"Dude, I've known you for years and I can count the words you've said on one hand for the most part," Stiles smiled to lessen the sting and Derek's lips quirked again. Temporarily distracted by them and the fact that it was only the two of them in the room - way to go, Stiles, he congratulated himself, maybe in another year you've actually manned up enough to tell him how you really feel, using your words - Stiles took a deep breath. "If we're not on the same page here, one of us is going to make a real fool out of himself."

Derek shrugged. "In that case, let me say it first." 

Stiles eyed him warily, frowning and trying to keep eye contact as Derek leaned forward. It made his eyes cross. "Out with it, dude."

"You drive me absolutely insane, you know that?" 

Before Stiles had had the chance to use his words (words were important, dammit) to come up with a retort worthy enough of what Derek did to him, he was being kissed within an inch of his life. With tongue. 

And he was totally fine with not using his words, because hello, it had been years.


End file.
